


Can't You Say Anything? (temporarily postponed)

by danavidanial (danavidaniel)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 06:54:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2141310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danavidaniel/pseuds/danavidanial
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Patient Zero." She has no name. She has no life story. She doesn't mean anything to anyone, but maybe someday she will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't You Say Anything? (temporarily postponed)

**Author's Note:**

> hey, this is my first story i'm ever publishing, so i hope i'm doing it right. this is an original story by me, and i hope you enjoy it! i had the idea for this a long ass time ago and i'm finally putting it down. i'll probably be slow on updates because i procrastinate like hell. 
> 
> \- max

“7*R%#&%9!”

“Interesting...once again, please. I may be approaching a result.”

“7*R%#&%9!!”

‘Why is it that no one can understand me? Why do they keep me locked up like some puppet, some disease that needs to be kept from the rest of humanity? I need to get out. I can’t handle this, I haven’t been able to for a long time.”

I started planning. I had been in this place for years, as long as I can remember. I had almost no knowledge of the outside world. I would have to do some research to make it. I had little chance of getting out, but at this point I would rather be shot down and killed than have to stay here just to be tortured with their tests. I have considered “going crazy” more times than I can count, but they would just restrain me and record every “interesting” thing that I say. I hate that word. “Interesting”, like I am nothing more than a toy for them to play with, see what new positions they can contort my body into, what new images they can force into my mind.

I was born like this. My mother had been planning on putting me up for adoption before I was born, I’m told, but when I emerged and uttered my first cry, the doctors took an interest in me and she gave me up to this “lab” that I am forced to call my home. I have no legal guardian, I am property of the American government. They treat me like a rat; I am nothing more than a test subject to them. I am 13 years old, and I don’t have a name. They call me “Patient Zero” and from that I call myself Zero. Zero, nothing, nobody. Perfect for me.

There is one doctor that I like. I like her because she has never talked to me. I have seen her from afar multiple times, and every time I do I swear I can see pity in her eyes as she looks at me. That is the most human affection I have ever experienced. That look of pity that says maybe there is hope, hope of being saved.

I have a small journal that they permit me. I never write in it because it’s only there for them to see if I can write. I can, but I won’t give them that satisfaction. They have taught me how to write, how to speak, and how to use proper etiquette; I learned how to write and how to be polite, but my voice is still the same. I can feel my mouth forming the words, but it never comes out how its supposed to. Its always just a screeching jumble of noises that seem to hurt everyones ears. They wear ear plugs.

Maybe if I can escape I’ll get to have a normal life. I’ll need to plan this. I’ll need to make sure I don’t get caught.

\- - - - -

I’m losing this battle. I can’t do it. Its like they know I’m planning something, and they’ve increased their watch over me. I know its not true though, because if they thought I was doing something wrong, they would be talking to me, instead of just… watching. It’s creepy.

I roll over to face the wall. I pull my blanket over my head and curl up. Closing my eyes, I let my mind wander. I’ve seen pictures of this thing called “grass,” and I love imagining how it would feel under my feet, covering the ground in a cool, green blanket. The doctors say that it’s September now, and that means that the grass is going to turn brown and dry soon. I wish I could go outside and see it for myself.

I hear the footsteps in the hallway alerting me that someone was coming towards my room before I hear the door open. I don’t bother turning around to face the person, knowing it was probably just another doctor coming to try to get me to speak. They pull the chair out of the corner of my room towards the end of my bed and sit. I hear the rustling of papers and the crossing of legs. Only two of the doctors I’ve met cross their legs, meaning this must either be that idiotic girl or the equally idiotic but also annoying guy. They clear their throat and am surprised to hear that it it neither. I wait for them to start speaking and when they do, I like the sound of the voice that comes out. It’s clear and loud enough to be heard. It’s a confident, difinitively female voice. She speaks and I feel like I want to listen for hours.  
“Hello, miss. I’m Doctor Shawna, and I don’t believe we’ve met before. I’m the head psychologist in this facility, and I have some questions for you.” At that I tensed up, and it must have been visible, because she continued.

“I’m not going to make you speak your answers.”

My mind froze, not sure if I had heard right. I turned around slowly and my eyes caught hers. It was her, the doctor who looked at me sometimes. She had a different look in her eyes today, not of pity or remorse, but what looked like determination. What could she be determined about? I sat up fully and stared at her apprehensively. She pulled a spiral notebook from out of her stack of papers and grabbed my pen from my nightstand. Handing them to me, she spoke.

“I know that you don’t like writing because you think they’ll read it and do more tests. But I will allow you to destroy each page right after you write on it if you’d like. I just want to know some things about you.”

I was gaping at this point, I’m sure. I didn’t know what to make of this woman in front of my bed, expressing what seemed to be kindness towards me. I shook my head slightly to clear it and grabbed the notebook shakily. I had no reason to trust this woman. I shouldn’t trust her. But I had this feeling, deep in my chest, that told me she was good. Not like the others.

I opened the notebook to the first page. I grabbed the pen and held it to the first line. These lines were smaller, they would be hard to fit my writing inside. I stopped and looked up at her, waiting for my first question.

She understood, and set her papers down on the floor. I looked at them and back to her, confused. She leaned forward with her elbows on her knees, and spoke; “You’ve been here your whole life. Have you ever wondered what was outside of this place?”

I tensed and grit my teeth. This was a bad question. This wasn’t a question I could answer. She noticed my raised shoulders and said, “Anything you don’t want to answer, just shake your head and we’ll skip it. Okay?”

I blinked and shook my head quickly. I didn’t know why I was trusting this woman so much, enough to even let her be in the same room, let alone agree to communicate with her. Either way, I let her continue.

“They call you Patient Zero, but you can’t like it. Have you ever wanted a name?”

I held the pen to the paper almost instantaneously, and began to form the first letter. I paused, looked up at her, and she was looking at my face. Not the paper. I didn’t know what to make of that. I looked back down and continued writing. It took me a while, seeing as I hadn’t actually written in a while. When I was finished, I gripped tightly to the edges and turned it around briefly to show her. I had written, “I call myself Zero”.

She smiled at the paper and said, “Thats no name for a young lady. Zero means nothing, worthless...”

I scribbled, “Exactly”.

She stared at the sheet with what looked like expectation in her eyes. I lowered my hands and hid the words with my blanket. She glanced up at me, and smiled slightly.

“I understand how you feel.”

I had to repeat what she said in my head twice to feel like I heard right. I must have looked confused because she explained further.

“My father left when I was a child; he left with another woman. My mother passed away soon after. There was no choice but to put me into foster care along with my two brothers. I can’t say I’d rather be in here than foster care, but I get what it feels like to want out. To want to be free.” She gestured at herself, “Look at me. I’m here, I’m free! Yeah, I’m 38 and getting older by the minute, but I’m finally free. I have a job, a house, a family. I had my chance.”

At this point I feel like she was bragging and telling me how great her life was, and how mine would never be the same even though we both had ‘tragic pasts.’ I started to tear out the page in the notebook to rip it up when she added softly at the end, “When will you want yours?”

My body froze completely with the half torn-out page in my hand. I felt my heartbeat quicken; what was this woman trying to say? Was she trying to get me in trouble? I didn’t want to talk to her anymore. I quickly finished ripping the page out and tossed the notebook away from me, crumpling up the paper into a ball in my palm.

“Right, too much talking. Real quickly, though…” She leaned down to grab her papers, then stood up, straightening the hem on her shirt, “Do you mind if I come in again, sometimes? If you want, we can put in a CD and just do our own things, or we can ‘talk’ like this again. Would you be okay with that? Nod if yes, shake your head if no.”

I hesitated. What did this lady want from me? Why does she want to talk to me? I jerked my head down slightly, ignoring my brain screaming at me not to agree. She nodded and smiled at me. As she walked out of the room, she paused and looked back at me, where I was trying to avoid her gaze.

“One last thing…” She waited until I looked up at her, annoyed that she wouldn’t leave. “I think Zero is a pretty name. Its unique.”

I gaped as she closed the door, leaving me in the quiet that sounded all too loud in my ears now.

**Author's Note:**

> so here we are, the first chapter. i'm actually pretty excited for this. hoping it turns out well! happy reading!
> 
> \- max


End file.
